Tuna Fish
by Inspector Karamazov
Summary: When Calvin looses Hobbes, will he have to accept the fact he'll be gone forever?


The intrepid Spaceman Spiff's ship had crashed in the middle of the ocean, with nothing for miles but rocking waves. He could only hope that somewhere on this planet had dry land. High above him, birds circled, just waiting for him to drop dead from the blazing sun. But he'd show them, he thought grimly, this would not be the end of Spiff!

"Can we go back to shore now?"

The game shattered when Hobbes spoke up. Both balanced on a boogie board, just close enough to the beach to see Calvin's parents under their bright red umbrella. Hobbes had curled himself up, his tail wrapped around his body and was trying very hard not to touch the water.

"Don't be a baby," said Calvin, "and help me look for sharks."

Hobbes grumbled something about being more interested in tuna, but joined Calvin in peering into the grey-green water.

"Maybe we'll find treasure! Or a pirate ship! Or-"

"Look at that!"

Calvin looked over his shoulder. Hobbes pointed with one furry finger at an enormous hill of water that grew bigger and bigger as it came closer.

Calvin's mouth hung open as the hill reared up; opening into a wave he thought was tall as a sky-scraper.

"Swim for shore!" he yelled over the roar of the wave, and began paddling furiously to escape it. His skinny arms were useless, and the wave crashed down, plunging him into the salty water, he struggled furiously to get above the surface, but the wave held him down, tangling him in the rope attached to his board.

He flailed wildly, water filling his eyes and lungs, head knocking painfully against the bottom of the ocean.

I'm going to die.

It was the only thought that rushed through his mind. He could not think to escape or swim, only that one, crippling thought.

I'm going to die.

His head and lungs felt as if they would burst, and the world began to fade to black.

Then, suddenly, a breath of glorious air, and the burn of the hot sun on his face. He lay perfectly still, gulping in breath after breath, not daring to move. The water lapped against his feet, and he felt the damp sand under his back.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, which stung with salt water, to stare up at the brilliant blue sky and the burning sun. He coughed, weakly, and again gasped for air. Still, he felt his heart pounding in his ears, but he was alive.

"We made it, Hobbes!" he said, jumping to his feet. He was a bit sore from being knocked around, but he felt wonderful.

"Let's swim out there and wait for another one!"

No answer.

Slowly, he looked around. The beach was crowded with people, the adults camped up on the burning, shifting sand, and children running around near the water, splashing each other or throwing mud. But there was no Hobbes.

"Hobbes?"

His voice caught, and although the beach was crowded, he felt very alone.

"Hobbes?" he asked again, louder this time, more desperate, "Where are you, buddy?"

He looked about wildly, hoping to see Hobbes dangling his feet in the water, or maybe back up with Calvin's parents, eating his sandwich.

"Hobbes!" he shouted, "Hobbes, where are you?"

His mother had heard him shout, and came running.

"Are you hurt," she said, "I saw you fall."

"I can't find him, mom," said Calvin, "What if he drowned?"

"You lost Hobbes?"

Calvin nodded silently, the tears starting in his eyes.

"I told you not to bring him out there," she said, "A stuffed tiger is too easy to lose. But, come on," she took his hand, "We'll look for him."

Calvin and his mother walked down the beach. His father followed behind, carrying all their beach gear and complaining that he felt like a pack-mule. Calvin ran ahead, calling for his friend. Every so often, he stopped to stare out to see, hoping to see a patch of orange against the endless blue-green.

It would be ok, he told himself. He'd lost Hobbes before, and he'd always found his way back home. He promised himself that when he finally found him, he'd beat the snot out of him for scaring him so badly.

"Hobbes," he shouted, his voice hoarse, "I'll give you all the tuna fish in the world if you come back!"

He still got no answer.

The sun climbed, and his parents made him stop for lunch. He gulped his juice box in one sip, but felt too sick to eat.

"Eat your sandwich, Calvin," said his mother.

He unwrapped the tinfoil and crumpled it into a ball. He thought it might be fun to throw it at Susie, but that wouldn't be fun without Hobbes. Calvin took a bite of the sandwich.

Tuna fish.

He could not swallow. He threw the sandwich on the sand, curled his knees against his chest, and cried.

His father decided to stay behind with the blanket and umbrella, and his mother and he walked ahead.

"He's my best friend, mom," said Calvin, "He won't just leave me."

Calvin's mom said nothing.

His feet began to drag, but he would not stop. He had to find Hobbes.

"Get back here, you mangy, stupid, hairball," he shouted.

"Calvin," his mom said, "I don't think he can hear you."

The sand burned his feet and the sun burned his back. It was worse than a nightmare; every step he took churned his stomach. What if they didn't find Hobbes? What if he was left alone in the middle of the ocean all night?

"Hobbes told me tigers are excellent swimmers," he said, "So he won't drown. But what if he's far out and won't get back to me in time?"

"I don't know, Calvin," said his mother. She sounded tired, "I think we should go home, soon."

"But I haven't found Hobbes yet!"

"It's getting late," she said, gently, "You won't find him in the dark. Besides, your father is waiting."

He knew that arguing would do him no good, so he trudged after his mom back to where his dad sat with the umbrella and a book. By the time he finally got back, the sun had almost set, spreading red and gold over the ocean in splotches of paint.

He was so tired that he swayed, and his eyes were half closed. He felt his father reach down and pick him up.

"No luck?"

"We couldn't find him," said his mother.

"That's too bad. But you know what? I'm sure that wherever Hobbes is right now, he's having a wonderful adventure."

"Without me?" said Calvin, burying his face in his father's shoulder, "He's probably just going to be scared to death of the dark, the big dummy."

What would he do without a tiger to keep the monsters away?

"Dad," he said, almost asleep, "Can we come back to look for Hobbes tomorrow?"

"Yes," said his father, and carried him to the car.

Calvin couldn't sleep without Hobbes' gentle breathing and got up before the sun rose. At four o'clock in the morning, he crept downstairs, the way he and Hobbes did on Christmas mornings. He missed the gentle padding of tiger's feet on the steps next to him.

He wandered into the kitchen, and made toast for breakfast, although he wasn't that hungry. Then, balancing on a chair, he reached for a high cupboard, stretching his fingers as far as he could.

He wished Hobbes was there, so he could stand on his shoulders.

At last he found what he was looking for and began searching through drawers for the can-opener. The fish smelt sharp and almost harsh that early in the morning. When he took his first bite, he recalled that he didn't even like tuna, but it reminded him of Hobbes, and that was enough.

"You're up early," said his mother, when she came downstairs a few hours later. She sniffed the air. "Were you eating tuna for breakfast?"

"Yes."

She sighed, and picked up his open can.

"You should at least put your things away when you are done with them."

"Can we go back to look for Hobbes today?" he said, "Dad said we could."

His mother sighed again, and sat down across from him.

"Calvin," she said, "your father is going to take you to look again today, after work. But, honey, I don't think you'll find him."

His lips quivered and tears started in his eyes.

"But he's my best friend," he said.

"Nothing lasts forever," she said, "Friends come and go. It doesn't seem fair, sometimes, but it's a part of life."

"Like the raccoon?" said Calvin, remembering the time he and Hobbes had tried to rescue a baby raccoon that died the next day.

"Sort of like that," she said, "And when old friends go, you make new ones."

"There's no one like Hobbes. I'll never have another best friend."

His mother looked at him a long time.

"Oh, Calvin," she said, "What am I going to do with you?"

In the early evening, he walked the beach with his father. It was quiet; no sound but the wind and gentle splashing of the waves. The air smelled salty and fresh, and the cool sand squished pleasantly between his toes.

"I don't see him anywhere," he said, gazing out to sea, "Tigers are good swimmers. Do you think he swam all the way to Australia by now?"

"Maybe he did," said his father, "But we can't stay too much longer."

"Can we walk a little further?"

"Just a little."

They walked on without speaking, Calvin searching everywhere for his friend. His mother's words seemed sewn onto his brain: Friends come and go, she had said. Nothing lasts forever.

He dug his hands into his pockets and blinked rapidly as the salty air stung his eyes. The sky grew grey, and final touches of sun slipped slowly beyond the horizon. It'd be too dark to see him now, even with the expanse of cold, bright stars that hung in the sky.

"Let's go home, Calvin," said his father, taking his hand.

"Do you think he'll write to me from Australia? You might have to send him a plane ticket. Or you could just put me in a box and ship me there through the mail."

"I don't think Hobbes is in Australia," said his father.

"I miss him."

He looked up at the starred sky, thinking about the time he and Hobbes went to Mars.

They walked up the beach, the wet sand became shifty and dry. Just ahead sat a row of faded, lopsided beach houses. Calvin wished he could stay in one, so that every day for the rest of his life, he could walk the beach and look for his best friend.

Nothing lasts forever.

He took a deep breath to keep from crying, and thought he caught the faint odor of tuna.

"Do you smell that, Dad?"

Turning, he saw where the smell came from.

On the sagging porch of the closest house, an old lady sat in a rocking chair. She clutched a floral shawl, and with her other hand, was eating tuna straight out of the can with a spoon. Next to her, on a child-sized rocking chair, munching on a sandwich, sat-

"Hobbes!"

He broke away from his father and jumped the steps. The porch boards creaked under his feet.

Hobbes put down the sandwich to hug him.

"I was so worried," said Calvin, "I thought you were in Australia."

"I missed you, too," Hobbes said.

He didn't want to let go, but at last, he pulled away, and said:

"You stupid hairball, I was worried sick about you."

He rubbed his eyes with his fists.

"I'm not crying," he said, "The air just hurts my eyes."

Later, Hobbes explained how he'd swam to shore, and spent hours wandering around, until Mrs. Denim, the old woman, took him in for the night and fed him.

"She makes a mean sandwich," said Hobbes. They sat side by side in the back of his father's car, "I wish I'd got her recipe."

Calvin hugged him again, and was sure his mother was wrong. There were two things that lasted forever; tuna fish and best friends.


End file.
